


Process of Elimination

by TheNarcolepticOne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarcolepticOne/pseuds/TheNarcolepticOne
Summary: Valentine’s Day is around the corner, yet Arthur isn’t going to be fooled by flowers and pretty words. He’s a master of surprises, and he’s prepared for the worst.





	Process of Elimination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChibiAuthorChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiAuthorChan/gifts).



> A/N: GOD. I’ve finally found my drive and I can finally POST this late thing. For [chibiauthorchan](https://chibiauthorchan.tumblr.com) on tumblr, thank you so much for being so patient with me. For the USUK Valentines 2k18. 
> 
> Warnings: None.

Everything that Arthur had expected up to that point in the week had been already preplanned.

From the first letter with the cheesy Shakespeare quote on Monday to the teddy bear and rose, to the _rose_ tea that was left on his desk by Friday after lunch, Arthur was entirely convinced that he had discovered his anonymous _admirer_ by a hunch he liked to call “narrow down every possible person known by the letter A”. This person, A, who had an affinity for roses, was already suspicious enough to be Francis. Arthur had no trouble with identifying the insistent motif of roses as a symbol of love to the frog, but Arthur supposed Francis would be at least bold enough to put his name on it.

And so began the guessing game of potentials on who could have given this letter to him.

Thankful, this task was not as tedious as it sounded. The process included a haphazardly created names list written on a scrap of notebook paper and a mechanical pencil on its last piece of lead; a whole procedure that took up only 10 minutes of his time during Precalculus to cross off until he made his guess. And after shifting through the list of girls and guys, he found his match.

The answer he concluded on, however, was the _worst_ one that could have been predicted. Or rather, it was a person that he felt would be the _last_ guy that could be it. It was entirely unlikely, enough to the point that it was almost _too_ obscure for this to even happen. It couldn’t be anyone else. And Arthur sighed, eventually throwing that paper into the recycling bin on his way out of class.

This had to be a fabricated ruse meant to cause him another round of humiliation renewed for the New Year.

Later in the evening of that same day that Arthur had made that discovery, the thoughts of positivity, the idea that someone would actually _like_ him, had finally sunk into its crude reality. This was fake. It wasn’t a real confession at all, but rather, just a trick that was causing Arthur to preemptively prepare for a laughing session. The warmth of affection had disappeared as if it had been squashed by God’s finger and pressed into the dirt, buried and gone from sight. Arthur lost his appetite that dinner and went to bed with confidence drained and self-pity taking its place.

His mother didn’t have the energy for consoling him that evening and Arthur being mopey was something entirely normal enough that his brothers didn’t even think to question him on how his day went. 

The evenings that followed him, Arthur forced himself to keep real to that realization of all of this being an elaborate joke. It hurt a lot more to reread the letter given to him that Tuesday, with the words twisting itself into an oddly mocking tone to him.

 

 _“True, you say_ ,” Arthur felt himself mentally poking fun at the note. He had a mind to make sure the note was in one piece, just so that he would be ready to confront his _admirer_ by Valentines Day and perhaps, if he felt dramatic enough, rip it in front of him just to show how much of a ‘mission failed’ it was.

Unfortunately, Arthur’s toleration until Friday was a lot harder than it sounded. Thanks to the senior class president Ludwig and his overly excited boyfriend’s imagination, there had been a significant increase in the number of heart shaped decorations that were stabled onto the walls in the school corridors. The student store began to allow the use of non-latex balloons in preparation for those days, and some classes had even convinced their teachers to hold the primary school tradition of passing out paper valentines with candy to classmates.

Overall, it was a difficult kind of negativity to hold onto. It didn’t take long until it became Friday.

That day, Arthur had been wearing something a bit extra, just to continue the act of pretending that he was expecting his _lover_. A nice white button up with good pants, loafers, and a black tie to top it all off. Arthur was secretly proud of himself.

Sir Prize was ready for anything.

And so, his day continued normally until he had gone to his locker, which contained another note.

_“I’ve got no way to make this sound sweeter. But if you could, please meet me on the roof at lunch. I have one last surprise for you. - A”_

He had taken the moment then to finally compose himself when he read it. Relieved that the sender finally had the conviction to end the charade, Arthur had made sure to take some extra measures of holding the notes given to him that week in his hands. And folding the notes in half, he went to grab the rest of his belongings so that he could go up to the roof, rip those papers, and flip his trickster off.

Everything that Arthur had expected up to that point in the week had been already preplanned.

But at the top of that rooftop, where he had thought he had known who was there all along, was someone he _still_ didn’t expect.

In his sights, was the backside of Alfred F. Jones, who looked as if he had been waiting there for much too long.

The attack plan was thrown out of the window. The one involving the anticipated “Ah ha! I knew it was you!” moment was deleted promptly.

His eyes met blue ones. Ones that were happy, bubbly and entirely expectant.

_“Of all the things I've called you in those notes, none of them could compare to how I see you in this moment. Arthur, you know I'm not the best with words, any other time I've talked to you it's probably seemed rude, blunt, insensitive, and careless. But to be honest, I just didn't know what to say. So I figured, it would be easier to show you instead of tell you.”_

Arthur felt the backpack on his shoulder drop.

_“I picked out everything myself because I thought each one would be what would make you the happiest. I know how much you like poetry, Shakespeare, and your tea. I know your favorite flower is the rose and I saw you eyeing that teddy bear at the gift shop on our last field trip. And... I know I'm probably the last guy on campus who you'd fall in love with. “_

Arthur swallowed, hand still holding the notes from the week, now being crumpled and discarded into the wind when he released them.

 _“You're just so overwhelmingly, beautiful, smart, witty, and just, perfect. While I'm too loud, crude, cocky, and seemingly insensitive. I knew from the start I had almost no chance with you, but you stole my heart regardless. So, I'm showing you the other side of me, the timid over thinker who is hopelessly in love. The guy who's thoughtful, tries his best to be romantic and will go to any lengths to be able to say 'you're mine'._ “

Arthur covered his mouth to try and hide his gaping expression. The attempt to hold his surprise wasn’t working.

_“I know I promised one last surprise, but I'm afraid I've made it two. So, Arthur Kirkland,”_

The boy got down on his knee, finally taking his arms from behind his back to reveal a ridiculous amount of roses -- wait. No.

 _Chocolate_ roses.

_“Will you be my Valentine, and possibly my boyfriend?”_

There is a long and quiet pause, as if the whole scene itself had decided to take a moment to weigh in.

Arthur laughed. Laughed a _lot_ harder than he thought he would. Was he crazy? He couldn’t tell if he looked that way. Arthur laughed and laughed, and his eyes had held tears at this point. The week of planning. The confession. He couldn’t believe it.

The expression Alfred had a moment ago was twisted to that of brief concern. But not before Arthur lifted a hand to let Alfred know to wait until he had calmed down.

“S-Sorry, love,” clarified Arthur, who finally had sighed in relief. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t be laughing like this, but… I need to say it. I’m relieved. Yes, yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Arthur picked up his backpack again, going over to him as he took the roses.  
“I can’t believe that I thought you were Antonio.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Posted March 28, 2018_


End file.
